Chapter 26: Anne Flint
"May God have Mercy on your soul..."
My knees gave way under my weight, and I expected to hit the hard deck with an unceremonious thud, but two pairs of arms kept me from falling and dragged me backwards, towards the foremast. And I could already see the men aloft in the rigging swinging the noose over the yardarm for my head to be squeezed through.
Desperately, I tried to break my arms free from the clutch of the two marines who were hauling me like a piece of luggage up to my grave. Where the hell had Donne gone? The two marines pulling me along were older and, honestly, more on Thorne's side rather than Justice's, and so what option was left for me but to kick and scream and attempt to bite at their hands to let me go?
Men filled up the Waist as their heads looked up in unison at the yardarm from which I'd hang, and as I followed their awed, fearful stares, my own eyes grew wide with terror. Dear God… this is it!
"Roland!" I shrieked, my heels stumbling across the deck as I tried to push my end at bay, but nothing was working. Every second that passed brought me closer and closer to the daunting yard that only continued to grow in height and breadth as we neared, and the sinister little noose that hung loosely, eagerly waiting to choke me.
"Bennett!" I flailed my limbs like a madman now, tossing my head back and forth and screaming like a banshee as my eyes welled with tears.
"Silence her!" demanded Thorne, following my procession with much sickening gladness on his face. The bastard.
The marines came to a halt and spun me around, only to clog my mouth shut with a gag. I almost had the opportunity to bite one of the marine's hands, but he was too quick. Dammit. I was seized again and heaved back towards my destination, and now I couldn't force a wail out of me. If I did, the cloth in my mouth would choke me and I'd only quicken my unfortunate demise.
"Stop this!" I heard someone say.
Dear God, I don't know what I'd do without you, dear brother…
"What did you say, Mister Turner?" Thorne had heard the shout of disapproval and had turned hotly on his heel, fists clenched and footsteps inching towards Roland with a savage punishment waiting to burst.
"Stop this!" Roland repeated, holding his ground, his right hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his side. "This punishment is extreme! She does not deserve this fate and you know it!"
Thorne uttered not a word, and I could no longer see what was going on as the men had switched their attentions off of me and onto the feud between my brother and their violent First Lieutenant. But I could tell that steam was about ready to shoot out of Thorne's nose and ears, and my fear slowly shifted from my hanging to what possible fate lied for my brother. And now Roland had turned to the captain, understanding where true honest leadership and reasoning stood.
"Captain, you must end this madness! Look at her! Look at what she has done! Can you not remember her progress? She is a midshipman for God's sake! You promoted her yourself! Does she deserve this after what she has done for you and for your ship!"
"Such disreputable lies, you mutineer," sneered Thorne. "Sir, she has caused much turmoil on this ship and she has disgraced every single man on board with her very presence!"
"Disgrace!" scoffed Roland. "What disgrace has she done? She has saved lives! She has led these men with just as strong a heart and stomach as any notable and worthy officer! I see no disgrace, you murderous fiend. I see no disgrace at all!"
Murmurs swerved around the men, and my heartbeat began to steady with the reviving hope that I'd live out this day. Please, God, please…
Thorne said nothing in response. His argument had now grown weak, and his absence of a remark gave way to Captain Carlisle to speak, miraculously on my behalf.
"Get her back here, Thorne. I will not hang her."
"Are you mad, sir!" screeched Thorne. "How dare you go back on your word!"
"Thorne, those are orders. Bring her back this instant!" Thorne had become indignant and I heard the gasps and curses directed towards him as he broke away from the crowd back towards me. And I knew as soon as I saw him again that he had no intention whatsoever to obey his captain at all.
He stole me away from the marines and chaos plagued the crew. Men rushed forward, protesting the blatant show of deliberate disobedience, but Thorne could have cared less. He wanted me to die, and he wouldn't rest until I hung limply from the noose.
"Thorne!" bellowed Carlisle, racing after the impudent lieutenant with Johnson and Kempe following from behind. He did not listen and only continued to drag me towards the foremast.
Oh God, help me…
"STOP THAT MAN!"
He was almost at the ratlines and I struggled all the harder to get away from his lunacy. Oh, God… Oh, God… Oh, God…
And as he pushed me towards the ratlines, I saw a grey silhouette in the distance, and it became blurred as fire exploded from its side and a hot cannonball was sent straight towards our ship and hit Thorne's pompous white wig, his skull rupturing into a revolting mess of blood and scattered bone, and the remains of his head flew everywhere, on me, on the neighboring sailors, on Captain Carlisle and his remaining loyal lieutenants, and on the very deck on which his headless body collapsed.
"Beat to Quarters!" shouted Carlisle, horrified at what he had just seen. He shielded his face with his arm as his men made way as he hurried by, towards the helm. Kempe came to me and lifted me up away from Thorne and his sorry remains and Johnson freed me from my gag. And as soon as my mouth was free, I vomited right at his feet.
"Mister Turner! Mister Bennett!" called Kempe, looking at me with a pinched face. My mids came forward like obediently and without even a word, Bennett scooped me up in his arms. But that did not mean I would be brought somewhere safely. It didn't even mean that anyone would be safe.
The Pearl had found us, and she wanted fresh blood. She wanted a ship full of treasure. And she wanted two souls, two rings and an elusive little sparrow.
The Resolve had fought back with all her capability, her crew working endlessly to load and fire the guns, to steer the ship into the wind's favor and to make precise, deadly shots. But the Pearl had gained the advantage first. She saw a moment of vulnerability and took it, and thus, she sealed our fate with a massive attack that left our ship in the brink of sinking into the blue main.
Our ships were now facing broadside, the Pearl getting ready to board, and us, armed to protect this ship of Britannia to the death, but victory appeared dim in our eyes. Our sails were ripped and shredded, and our mizzen and foremast were severed in two by a lucky pair of chain shots. Blood swelled on the deck and the thick smoke of gunfire created an irritating fog among us. But it wasn't enough to hide us from our foes.
The whore of a captain on board the Pearl came up to the railing of her ship and raised her hands, calling for a cease fire.
"I'll make a deal with ye," she yelled. "Let me come aboard an' if any o' yiz take a shot at me, yer ship goes down. My ship's guns are loaded and ready to fire, and if ye make one wrong move, forty cannonballs will be fired straight at yer hull. An' ye'll sink like a lump of rock." She laughed and prompted for a gangplank to be lowered, and as the other end of the plank hit our deck, I bristled with pure and unadulterated anger as she stepped on board.
Two of her pirates came after her, and she stood with a frown on her face, a large feathered hat shadowing her eyes from us, and just the glint of her numerous jewels flashing in the clearing fog.
"I want the girl," she demanded. "And I want the boy. And then I'll leave," she stated simply. "I won't attack you. Just give me the girl and the boy and I'll be gone."
"Why do you want them?" questioned Carlisle. "They are citizens of the Crown. If I surrender them to you, I only endanger their lives."
"Well, sir, I can assure you I won't be hurtin' none of yer little darlin's. 'Specially the two I want. I wouldn't want them if I was gonna kill 'em, now would I?" She looked amongst the crew and saw me and I bared my teeth at her. She laughed.
"C'mon. If I take the girl, all yer troubles'll be gone. Ye wanted to get rid o' her anyway, aye? Give 'er and her brother to me, Captain. I'll get 'em outta yer hair." She looked at me again. "C'mon, sweetie. I know jus' where yer dear ol' daddy is. Cap'n Jack Sparrow, aye? I know jus' where he is, my dear. I can bring 'im to ye."
I looked at Roland, the offering seeming oh so wonderful in my mind, but he shook his head at me. "Don't do it," he mouthed.
But there was something wrong about his reasoning. If we didn't go to her, she'd sink the ship and all of us would fall into the maddening darkness of Davy Jones' locker. I wouldn't allow that. My dear Bennett drowned at sea? Never. Funny Dobbin and Andre to have graves in the bottomless ocean? Never. I wouldn't let it happen. And for what seemed like a very long time, I made a resolute decision for both Roland and myself.
"We'll go," I declared. "We'll go if ye don't sink this ship. Don't you dare hurt any of these men or this ship, do you understand me?" The tramp grinned at me and took off her large hat and bowed, and I heard her pirates laugh. She was mocking me.
"Of course, my child," she purred, resuming her upright position and looking at me. "Come aboard. An' I'll welcome the two o' ye to the Black Pearl."
Before I even had the chance to give any goodbyes, her two pirates seized Roland and me from the Resolve and hauled us over the gangplank and to the deck of the Pearl.
"Bennett!" I cried, but a grimy hand covered my mouth and the last thing I saw was Bennett rushing to the railing of the dear, beloved Resolve.
And then the earthshaking boom of forty fired cannons crashed into the side of the beautiful British Man-of-War, and the Pearl sailed off, leaving my first ship, my first adventure, and all of my mates, to sink to the depths of the powerful, blood-hungry ocean.
We weren't brought down to the brig as I had expected. We were brought to the captain's quarters, and we were told to sit in the two chairs placed in front of an old, rotting desk, and the smooth sequence of all that was happening moved me to believe that this whore of a captain had been planning our capture for a very, very long time.
Roland said not a word to me, and he sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned away from me in definite protest. He told me not to agree to her terms, and look what happened. We were captive on board a pirate ship and our mates and future were as good as dead. I knew nothing I said would convince him to speak with me, and so I remained taciturn, sitting in my chair with my hands folded in my lap and my eyes wandering around the quarters, noting every familiar object in the cabin. And the longer I looked, the more my childhood memories on board the Pearl came to life in my head.
I suddenly recalled a vague memory in which I sat in a chair in front of the same very desk, and Jack sat at the desk, his feet propped up and a gold doubloon getting flipped between his jeweled fingers. I sat in my chair bouncing up and down, wanting to get out of the chair but for some reason being stuck to it by some invisible power that brought a great frown on my fat, pouting face. I whined, I screeched, I cried, and I beat at the chair with my little fists, and Jack continued to sit at his desk, adding a whistled sea chanty to his simple action of flipping the little gold coin in his hand.
"Daddy, let me out!" I wept, my hands grasping the arm of the wooden chair and trying to wrench it off in childish desperation. And since I could not break off the chair arm with my hands, I sank my toddler teeth into the wood and bit at it like a dog who chewed on his bone.
"Let me out!" I repeated, the chair arm still wedged in my mouth, and Jack stopped his amusement and took his legs off of the desk top and leaned over to look at me.
"Why are ye eatin' that chair, love?" he asked me, and I only glared at him with water on my face and my teeth still gnawing on the poor chair.
"I'm not!" I cried. "Ye won't lemme out."
"Why d'ye think I'm not lettin' ye out, lovey? Eh? Do ye think I brought you to the chair to have ye eat it?" Stupid as I was back then (and perhaps still now), I said:
"Yes. Ye want me to eat the chair, 'cause yer mean!" He looked at me, shocked, his lips forming a perfect 'o' as he sat back, only to break the 'o' into a wide grin that showed his golden teeth in all their vulgar beauty.
"I'm mean? Now, what d'ye mean by me bein' mean, love? Am I mean because you say I'm mean an' you mean it? Or am I mean 'cause I mean for ye to eat that chair an' I mean it?"
I freed the arm of the chair from my drooling mouth and looked up at him, letting out a high-pitched and honest, "Huh?"
He looked at me for a second and then pursed his lips, his brows furrowing in either concern or misunderstanding. And after we exchanged stares, me looking like a cock-eyed fool and he looking like a confused cockatoo, he finally said:
"D'ye mean that, love?"
And my pudgy, bemused little face contorted at his persistent joking, and I wailed, "Lemme out, Jack! Let… me... out!"
And being the wonderful daddy he was, he left his desk with a little roll of his eyes and picked me up from the chair and carried me outside, where I immediately quieted and bubbled with joy and laughter as he reunited me with the fresh salty air of my beauteous ocean.
The door slammed behind us and I almost jumped from my seat. Her heeled boots thudded across the floor as she made way to her desk, taking off her large feathered hat and plopping it on the desk top. She didn't sit in a chair when she addressed us. Oh no. She did not. She sat her bum down on the desktop and brought her legs up, flashing an inappropriate smile at Roland and then fixing her dark eyes on me. And, might I add, her smile was gone as soon as we met eyes.
"Lookie here, chil'ren," she began, her voice monotone. I figured that she found our presences hardly worth her time. "I know one o' yous has what I'm lookin' for. An' yer gonna give me whatever I ask o' you or you die and I jus' let me crew out there search yer bodies for what I want. And I know that," she paused and glared at me again, "is not something you want done to yerself, Miss Sparrow. Ain't that right?"
She tossed her head back and whipped her thick black braid over her shoulder, her painted lips curling again at the silence Roland and I created.
"Nottin' to say, eh?" she laughed, swinging her legs over the corner of the desk so that she faced us entirely and had no more need to cock her head from side to side. "Well… p'raps ye'll be more willin' t'speak if I introduce meself. Me name is Anne Flint. But you, dearies, call me Captain Anne. Now… I know yer names by a very reliable little source o' mine, which none o' yous will ever find out. So… I guess I'll be tellin' ye what I want." She came to a halt and peered at both of us, and after a while, she made up her mind and stood up again, immediately approaching Roland as her feet landed on the floor.
She circled him, laying her hand on his face and letting her fingers slide around his mouth and nose and cheek as she made her way around him, and I grew sick at her whorish activity. My inner gut told me that her roots came from Tortuga. She couldn't have come from anywhere else. Her painted beauty was false and typical of the bauds that resided in the pirate town. She was a Tortuga wench. And there was no doubt about that.
When she had finished getting her kicks from Roland, she moved towards me, the smirk on her face vanishing and the same, dulled look coming onto her long, narrow face.
"Give me the rings around yer neck, love, and then I'll leave ye both alone. I'll even take ye to Jack if ye want me to. All ye have to do is gimme the rings. That's it." With one hand on her hip and the other outstretched before me, she beckoned for the two rings dangling by my neck.
But the rings lead to a treasure, damn you, I said to myself inside. And there's no way in hell that I'm gonna give them to you.
She must have noticed my reluctance, and she switched back to her supposedly sweet-looking little self and smiled at me. "Oh, my child. Ye look so much like yer mum. Same face, same eyes. Yer nose is a bit like that dumb Jack Sparrow's but still, ye owe yer pretty face to yer darlin' mum. Tortuga could use a few more lasses like you. We've been runnin' a bit low on new girls to keep the men on shore."
Ha, I scoffed inside. I ain't gonna fall for that cheap trick, you madwoman.
"I don't intend to go to Tortuga, you coquettish moll," I answered sharply. "And I ain't givin' you my rings neither."
"Too bad yer too much like Jack in personality," she sighed. "I'm gonna have to get rid o' you like I did him then." She sighed again and turned to Roland, batting her thick, black lashes and pouting for play. Roland looked absolutely dumbfounded as he gawked at her. She might have known Jack and she might have been a no good prostitute, but there was no questioning her beauty, however gilded it was with cosmetics. She was young, still in her young thirties, and even a young lad like Roland would be stupid not to absorb any glance she privileged him with.
It was no wonder why she was a Tortuga wench.
"Both o' ye are dismissed. Now get yer sorry arses outta me cabin!" she barked, kicking at the leg of my chair and almost toppling me over.
Roland and I rose from our seats quickly and scurried out of the cabin. And surprisingly, as we exited, none of her crewmembers immediately lashed out to throttle our necks and toss us overboard. We were given the freedom to roam about, which was oddly disturbing. And as happy as I was to finally be on my father's ship, I knew something was terribly wrong.
For one, Roland wouldn't speak to me still, and I caught him always looking back at Anne's cabin door over and over again as we walked around. And two, for being hostages on a ship, we weren't being treated like ones, and that meant just one thing:
Anne had something up her sleeve, and she'd be pulling it out as soon as possible.
I only wished that I knew when.
Roland still refused to speak with me, and he had abandoned my company long ago to wander about the ship all by his onesies. I didn't mind. He had probably gotten used to giving me orders after spending two years on a ship under his supervision, and it injured his pride to have to once again take orders from me. It was either that, or he blamed me for the detrimental attack on the Resolve as Mad Annie sailed us away to the netherworld. But he honestly couldn't accuse me of anything. Did I know that she'd go back on her word? The traitorous tramp. Did I know?
No, I didn't. But even if I didn't, I knew what he'd say in response to my defense. He'd say, "You shouldn't have trusted her from the beginning anyway, Astrid! Now we're stuck here…" And so on and so forth. Thus, I concluded that perhaps it was better for the both of us to stay away from each other for a while. I didn't exactly want another fight with Roland, especially at this moment when I felt that Anne was conjuring up some evil little scheme in her head. For indeed, if she planned on terminating us, then Roland's alliance would be most comforting.
It was a pity, however, that he wasn't on deck when her plan was finally executed that evening.
"There you are, Astrid!" Anne chimed as she came towards me, her arms wide open as if expecting me to run up to her and hug her as if she were my mum. She really is daft if she thinks I'm gonna greet her affectionately…
As she came closer, I muttered a curse towards her and rolled my eyes as I turned away, resting my elbows on the larboard rail of the Pearl and propping up my chin with the palms of my hands.
"Now, now, dear," she chided, laying a hand on my shoulder. I shuddered and backed away from her, seeing the grand white moon rising over her head in the black night and noting the dark glimmer in her eyes as she grinned at me.
"Leave me alone," I growled, my left hand manually resting on my right hip for the hilt of my sword. But to my horror, I realized that all of my belongings were left on the Resolve, and I was left weaponless and entirely vulnerable to physical attack.
Damn. You. Anne. Flint.
"Oh, but we can't leave ye alone, little Astrid," she said, coming forward and snapping her fingers. Her crew flew to her like a swarm of flies and they circled me, leaving me no out whatsoever.
Oh, dammit, Astrid!
"What do you want?" I ordered, but she laughed at me instead of properly answering my question. Raising her hand up as she cackled so as to keep everyone else silent while she relished her pure, witch-like laughter hideously echoing in the still evening air, she finally addressed me.
"You stupid girl," she snapped, her guffaws coming to a short, halting stop. "I want the ruby rings around your neck. I want them now!" My hands immediately went to the chain around my neck, and I backed away even further, only to run into the hard, muscled bodies of her demented crew.
I let out a squeal and made a run for the railing, finding the cold, bitter seawater more appealing than surrendering the jewelry to her, but her men instantly blocked my path, trapping me in a tighter space than before and only growing tighter.
As soon as the first grimy hand touched me, I jumped and let out a shout. "Roland!" But another pair of hands grabbed my head and another man had drowned my shrieking mouth with a ball of cloth and a rag wrapped around my jaw. More hands seized my legs and held them tight, all the while tying them down with something heavier than simple rope, and the same went for my flailing wrists.
"I told ye I'd get rid of you, sweetie," said Anne, walking up to my fettered, shackled and gagged self. "And I always get what I want." With a fierce yank, she broke the chain around my neck that held both Bennett's and Adam's ring and let the two golden jewels plop into her palm. And as soon as they were in her possession she smiled wickedly at me and said: "Drown her."
Her men roared with merry, impious laughter as they heaved me towards the railing of the ship. A chain shot was attached to the chains on my ankles and no matter of protest could stop them. They had managed to silence me and subdue me in their great, awful number and all that waited for me was the hungry lapping of the waves against the ship, the ocean's mouth opening to swallow me whole as Mad Anne Flint's men pulled me up and dropped me into the water like a body sewed in cloth and announced as dead.
The darkness was suffocating as I plummeted into the waves, and the chain shot attached to my legs pulled me deeper and deeper into the water at an alarming rate. I couldn't even worry or think in my position. Ihad to get out, but my body was failing me. My breath was draining and my lungs ached for more air, but my mouth was gagged and my nose was filled with water. No air would ever get back into my system.
As I tried to pry my wrists from the chains, the old, rusted iron only cut my skin and added small ribbons of blood into the dark water, and my feet were of no use either. The chain shot was sinking me, and I couldn't get it… off?
A weight was lifted from my legs, and I looked down at my feet, seeing only blackness but bending over in the water to see what had fallen off of my ankles. The chain shot had broken off, the iron apparently weak and brittle, and desperately, I struggled to pull the chains off of my legs.
But my efforts were in vain.
I was dying.